Hotwife Swim Coach

By Kethandra Wilde

As the substitute coach, Michelle finds out why the boys swim team is failing so miserably, and then takes drastic action with all four young studs – one at a time – to ease the overwhelming erotic tension they all feel.

Fortunately, this is exactly the kind of ‘cheating’ her new husband has been encouraging his sexy young wife to explore.

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

Michelle yawned, cranking the steering wheel of the school van to guide it back out of the driveway, heading onto the two-lane highway out of town. It wasn’t even dawn yet, way too early for this. But she had agreed to fill in for the swim coach, who had broken his leg only yesterday mountain biking, and take the members of the high school boys swim team who had qualified to their biggest meet, the regional championships.

They had to know she could hear them, right?

Sure, the four seniors were huddled behind the seats, in the back of the van. Sure, the radio was on. But it was still just a van and they were not whispering very effectively between the bouts of nervous laughter.

“Did you see those Daisy Dukes? And what she’s packing in that shirt?”

“Please don’t talk about that, the pressure is too much already.”

“My balls are so frigging blue!”

“Mine too. I’m not sure this was a good idea, not with her looking so...I don’t want to think about it. Goddam! I’ve got so much sperm backed up my teeth are floating.”

Snickers at that. “Damn, Stan, that’s nasty.”

“Blame bonehead, not me.”

‘Bonehead’ would be Bobby, Michelle’s new step-son. He was scheduled for this trip too, the fifth senior to qualify, but was home sick in bed. It still seemed odd to her to think of having a step-son, especially one so much closer to her own age than her new husband was. When the coach had called them yesterday, sounding loopy from the painkillers, the plan had been for both Michelle and her husband to take the five swimmers to the meet. But the plan changed again, when Bobby woke up with an apparent case of the flu and her husband had gotten an urgent call from the office.

“‘Trust me.’ He said.” Stan’s voice went on, complaining about their absent friend, imitating him. “‘You gotta store up that Warrior Energy. If it worked for the Zulu warriors, kicking British butt with spears against rifles, it works. Spartans did it too. All the top MMA fighters swear by this. Think about it: what do you want to do after you bust a big fat nut in some hot girl? Roll over and sleep.’”

Did Bobby really talk about busting ‘a big fat nut?’ He was handsome enough to be getting all the girls he wanted but seemed so shy, so innocent to Michelle.

“Or in your case, Stumpy, bust a nut in your hand.” That was Ricky ‘Speedy’ Simpson interrupting Stan’s imitation. He was answered with coughs of laughter.

Speedy talked fast, walked fast, did everything fast. Michelle shook her head. The internet was full of BS pseudo-science. But listening to four 18-year olds, all strong, fit and toned from swimming, talk about how horny they were was getting her juices flowing.

And that was before they started talking about her. She’d considered wearing a bra but hated the constriction. She was proud of how her full, round cleavage didn’t need the support, and thought the loose button-down shirt would keep her decision from being too obvious.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boruma Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463204115

Book preview

Hotwife Swim Coach:

‘One at a Time, Boys’

by Kethandra Wilde

Cover Art by Moira Nelligar

Copyright 2020 by Kethandra Wilde

All characters are over the age of 18

Michelle yawned, cranking the steering wheel of the school van to guide it back out of the driveway, heading onto the two-lane highway out of town. It wasn’t even dawn yet, way too early for this. But she had agreed to fill in for the swim coach, who had broken his leg only yesterday mountain biking, and take the members of the high school boys swim team who had qualified to their biggest meet, the regional championships.

They had to know she could hear them, right?

Sure, the four seniors were huddled behind the seats, in the back of the van. Sure, the radio was on. But it was still just a van and they were not whispering very effectively between the bouts of nervous laughter.

Did you see those Daisy Dukes? And her tits in that shirt?

Please don’t talk about that, the pressure is too much already.

My balls are so fucking blue!

Mine too. I’m not sure this was a good idea, not with her looking so...I don’t want to think about it. Goddam! I’ve got so much sperm backed up my teeth are floating.

Snickers at that. Fuck, Stan, that’s nasty.

Blame bonehead, not me.

‘Bonehead’ would be Bobby, Michelle’s new step-son. He was scheduled for this trip too, the fifth senior to qualify, but was home sick in bed. It still seemed odd to her to think of having a step-son, especially one so much closer to her own age than her new husband was. When the coach had called them yesterday, sounding loopy from the painkillers, the plan had been for both Michelle and her husband to take the five swimmers to the meet. But the plan changed again, when Bobby woke up with an apparent case of the flu and her husband had gotten an urgent call from the office.

‘Trust me.’ He said. Stan’s voice went on, complaining about their absent friend, imitating him. "‘You gotta store up that Warrior Energy. If it worked for the Zulu warriors, kicking British ass with spears against rifles, it works. Spartans did it too. All the top MMA fighters swear by this. Think about it: what do you want to do after you bust a big fat